Tainted Return
by LexaCavan
Summary: As the team investigates a suspected human trafficker they stumble upon a young girl who seems familiar to Gibbs.   FYI - I have changed the time-line of the story just a bit in order to adjust the age of one of the characters.  I welcome reviews!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Watching

"We planted that camera almost an hour ago, why isn't it up yet, Mcgee?" Leroy Jethro Gibbs practically bellowed the question at his youngest field agent.

"It's coming up now, Boss." Mcgee reported, his slim fingers dancing over the keyboard. DiNozzo stepped up beside the boss with his arms folded over his chest as the image of the basement he had just left appeared on the flatscreen. Tony was still wearing his blue jumpsuit with the logo of the furnace repair company on the chest. Gibbs yanked the matching cap off his Senior Field Agent's head and tossed it in the direction of the messiest desk in the bullpen, piled high with papers, magazines and a Twinkie wrapper. Ziva ducked out of the line of fire as she joined the team to watch a figure bent over a desk at the far end of the basement. Toni had seen that desk empty an hour before, when he'd tinkered with the furnace – and planted a camera.

Now the desk was occupied by a pile of tools, paper, ink jars and a young girl, who bent over the work space with great concentration.

"We can add counterfeiting to the list." Ziva observed.

"Along with contributing to the delinquency of a minor." Mcgee added.

"She's gotta be well under eighteen." This from Tony, who would know.

"Fourteen at the most." Gibbs concluded, and the edge in his voice sharpened at the thought. Nothing angered the silver-haired ex-Marine more than a child being mistreated, especially a girl.

The girl's back was to the camera, but every few minutes she rose to get something, or turned to look in the direction of the basement stairs. When she turned, Ziva felt Gibbs stiffen. The girl was young, innocence tarnished by a bruise on her chin, a black eye, and a greenish shadow on her throat. She moved with the stiffness of an old woman, and silently, each team member's temper rose a few degrees. Just when Mcgee moved to his desk to crop a picture for facial recognition, the sound of the basement door opening made the whole team freeze. Heavy, booted feet stomped down the stairs and the girl's shoulders hunched a bit more with each resounding step. He spoke to her, and the four agents leaned in for a moment to listen before realizing there was no sound.

Gibbs sent Mcgee - who was scrambling for his desk - a death glare that could have peeled the paint off the walls. When the sound came on Mcgee breathed a sigh of relief but stayed at his desk away from the watery blue gaze.

"Make sure the back room is ready, and get those finished before you come upstairs." The man was saying.

"That's Kingsley." Tony reported softly.

"Back room?" The girl repeated, more sharply than anyone expected.

"Yes, back room." Kingsley growled.

"But you said you…you can't-" She jumped to her feet, her young face angry with protest.

"Do as I say!" Kingsley growled, slamming his hand onto the desk top. Paper and ink bottles flew to the floor, but as the man stomped away the girl turned, courage rising in her young eyes. She was glaring at his back as she spat out the word, "no."

He stopped. Froze. The girl's chest was heaving but she held her ground, even as Tony, Mcgee and Ziva held their breaths, and a tightness began to weave its way into Gibb's chest.

"What was that?"

"You said you wouldn't bring anymore girls. You said no more! I help you with every scheme you dream up. I work twenty hours a day. My fingers bleed and my eyes swim and I don't protest, but its not right what you're doing to those girls."

The words were out now. Ziva found herself proud of the courage and force of them, but still, in the depths of her soul she heard her inner voice pleading with God for mercy – for the girl's sake.

Kingsley wound his fingers through the girl's hair and pulled her face toward his. Ziva's hand found itself clutching the place in her belt where her gun normally was.

"You work for me every day because I'll kill you if you don't and because no one else wants you. You're a worthless piece of trash and the only thing you'll ever be good for is a quick thrill."

"Guess I can't make any more money then, if I'm that worthless."

"What the hell is she doing?" Mcgee asked fearfully.

"She's pissin' him off." Gibbs said simply, and then proceded to turn inward on himself. His expression cold as granite, eyes closed, arms folded over his chest as he and his team watched the beating that followed. There was no way they could help those girls if they stepped in now. Knowing how many others they would save by holding back didn't make it any easier, though.

"Your own father didn't care enough to find you! What makes you think I care enough not to kill you?" Kingsley shouted at the girl as he stepped back from her crumpled, shaking form.

"My father is an agent – he was a Marine and now he's NCIS and he'll rip you apart if he ever finds you." She screamed the words a hundred times louder than she meant to, and it took him off guard. He stepped away even further. "How did you know about your-" the phone rang upstairs, stopping his shocked words. He growled and turned toward the stairs just as the team realized that Tony had stepped away and pulled out his cell phone.

"Hello, Mr. Kingsley, this is Dillon from the Warm and Toasty Furnace Repair shop. I'm just making a follow up call to ensure quality of service."

The girl pulled herself off the floor, biting her lip to hold back the tears. "Don't, you're not a baby." She admonished herself as she began to pick up the items that had fallen from the desk.

"Find out who she is." Gibbs ordered. "Now."

Leroy Jethro Gibbs couldn't take his eyes off the face of the girl. _Fourteen years_, his mind whispered, that same age that _she_ would have been if…. He shook his head against the thought, and headed upstairs to see Vance.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Recognition

"Um…Boss?" Mcgee said warily from across the room.

"What, Mcgee?" Gibbs had been furious for the past hour, but Mcgee had no choice in telling him. This was either going to be the best or the worst moment of the young field agent's career.

"Boss, facial recognition software isn't the most reliable. And in this case, the camera…the placement of the camera and-"

"You don't have anything, don't say anything."

"Well that's just it…I…maybe…do. Or at least the computer seems to think…it does."

Gibbs fixed his agent with another glare of death but even as he did he felt the earlier tightness return to his chest, and in that pulse: he knew.

He didn't even have to look, but he forced himself to anyway. On one side of the screen was the girl, face bruised and wide with fear, skin pale and pulled taut over a malnourished frame. On the other side, across the bar that flashed a green "positive match" was a younger version of the same person; several years younger and smiling, pigtails in even braids down her shoulders.

Kelly Gibbs.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a steady man, a man of honor and integrity, solid as a rock, unwavering in his principles and unshakeable in his emotions.

And yet DiNozzo, who had come up to stand beside the man, would have given anything not to have to see his boss's face in that moment. The younger man closed his eyes and turned away, and half a breath later a flash from the flatscreen drew the team's attention.

"The girl." Ziva said as she geared up. "She just started a fire."

They barely announced themselves before breaking down the door and rushing in, guns drawn. Mcgee backed through the smoke-filled house and jerked in surprise when Dinozzo's tall figure met him, coming from the back door.

"All clear!" Tony announced as he made a bee-line for the basement door in the middle of the hallway. It was locked. Gibbs blew it open with his firearm and rushed down, arm over his face as he called her name.

It was a sight the younger agents would never forget; the face of their boss when he saw the girl who had died in his heart, crumpled helplessly on the floor. The furnace crackled, and Mcgee lunged forward to pull his boss away just as flames shot out of the metal box. Tony was on the floor beside the child, and the moment he lifted her off the floor into his arms the other two men launched into action, crowding around him to watch his six like football players as they thundered up the stairs. They felt, rather than saw their way out of the house, and the moment of sweet fresh air and freedom was taken up by the arrival of two fire-fighters who met them at the porch on their way into the house – just as something exploded from the direction of the kitchen.

The fire-fighters tried to take charge of the situation, but when they tried to take the girl from DiNozzo's arms, Gibbs nearly clocked them both, and they fell back to join their buddies in dealing with the house itself. A third man appeared to check her pulse and offer oxygen for the girl and her heroes. "She passed out from the smoke, but she's breathing." He announced as he slipped the oxygen mask over her face.

He couldn't talk to her yet. That was sure. Not only could it put the case in jeopardy by creating a conflict of interest, but Leroy Jethro Gibbs felt as if his heart were being squeezed by an iron fist. After barking out several harsh orders to his team, the Senior agent crawled off home to the solace of his basement, sat under the skeleton of his newest boat, and proceeded with his breakdown.

He hadn't had the guts to look at her face up close. Somewhere in the back of his head a frightened voice screamed, "_She's not your daughter!"_ And with each scream his heart lost her all over again, and his soul died all over again. At the same time, he almost would have preferred her dead over being trapped in the dungeon of a monster like Kingsley all these years.

But if it _was_ her, that meant she had been here, all these years, in this very city, living a terrible existence of fear and abuse while he, her father, had slept safely every night, had been well fed on steak and beer, had even learned to laugh again. It was that thought that finally brought the tears. The silver head bent, the strong shoulders shook, as the old man wept great, fierce sobs that racked his entire exhausted body and wrenched his stomach until he nearly hurled on the bones of his boat.

It was a long time before the turmoil began to ease back, and then he realized that he was not alone. Someone had walked through his front door. The back of his mind had registered it without telling him, but now he became aware and looked up to see a figure setting on his basement steps.

The voice that spoke; posh, clean, gentle, was that of the only human being on earth who could get away with seeing him cry.

"She's alright, Jethro. Oh, there were bruises of course, and her wrist was sprained, but even the smoke didn't do much damage. A bad cough for a while and-"

"Is it her, Duck?" Gibbs broke in, burning with shame over the post-sob thickness in his throat.

"DNA confirms it. She is your daughter." The ME announced with care.

Gibbs shuddered.

The older man on the steps was silent, waiting. The very wood seemed to echo with pain.

"How could it happen, Duck? How could I not know she was out there somewhere?"

"How _could_ you know?" Ducky challenged him gently. A heavy silence fell, thick with the pained confusion emanating from the younger of the two men.

"Where is she now?" Gibbs finally asked.

"DiNozzo is interrogating her."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Interrogation

It half-killed him to use the interrogation room. It seemed so cold and harsh in there, and the girl had seemed so frail when Tony had lifted her to his chest four hours before. But orders were orders, so he opened the door to the tiny room and set a box of tissues, a bottle of water and a Twinkie in front of her on the table.

"You're the furnace guy." She stated flatly once he had introduced himself.

It took him off guard. "Uh, yeah, I am. How did you know?" DiNozzo asked as he eased himself into the chair across from her.

"I was behind the curtain when you were fixing the furnace – that is – installing the camera."

"You knew?"

"I suspected at first, I _knew_ when you guys came – you had to have known where the basement was to have found me in time and there's only one reason NCIS would think to even look down there- while the house was on fire – much less your being in the house to begin with…." She trailed off with a small shrug. Tony blinked at her for a moment, completely unsure of himself. Lacking the words to continue with his planned interrogation he reached out to open her water bottle for her. She drew back, little more than a slight tension of the young muscles, but he saw the fear in the familiar blue gaze. It was not an emotion he was used to seeing in those eyes, and it bothered him.

"Hey." He said smoothly, flashing his most charming grin. "I'm the guy who pulled you out of that fire, you don't…hafta' be afraid of _me_." The words came out awkwardly as did the silence that followed. _Protocol, DiNozzo, _he reminded himself. "So, how did the fire start?"

She sat back in her chair and fiddled with the edge of the table for a moment. "It's alright, you can tell me. I can help you – we- we can help you." Silently, Tony prayed Gibbs wasn't watching this, watching the clumsy way he was trying to both question and comfort their star witness.

"I started the fire." The girl admitted softly, glancing furtively to the clear, accepting look in his eyes. He waited patiently for her to continue. "They were bringing more. They were going…." She hung her head, pressed her thin hand over her mouth and closed her eyes, shaking a little with the tension and fear.

"It's okay. It's okay to tell me, you're okay now." Tony said, in what he hoped was a soothing voice. In the back of his mind he wondered what the rest of the team was thinking. He knew they were in the observation room, all of the piled in there, hanging on her every word, trying to decide for themselves if she was really HER. In his mind, there was no question. That was the same gaze that watched DiNozzo every day, stone-gray that could break granite and ice blue that could warm with laughter. Only now they were set in the eyes of a child, filled with fear and the weight of indecision. "Kelly, those men will never be able to hurt you again. You're with us now, and we're going to keep you safe, all right?"

"You don't understand." She whispered, head still down, shoulders quaking. "They can reach far, hit hard, go anywhere, do anything they want to. No one can stop them." Her voice built in conviction and for a moment he almost believed her, but a deeper instinct took over and he found himself reaching for her hand. She laid it on the table hesitantly and watched as tender fingers took it up and the other strong hand came around it: human touch. Human touch that didn't hurt. It made her ache with hope and wanting.

"This is a federal facility, and it's filled with people who would die to protect you. You don't have anything to worry about. Please trust me."

She stared at him for a long time without answering. Her words, when she finally spoke, made his blood run cold.

The team poured out of the elevator to find Gibbs waiting. He was standing beside Ducky looking like he needed more coffee than his cup could hold. DiNozzo, Ziva, McGee and Abby piled out of the elevator after an awkward moment and followed him into the bullpen.

"Report." He demanded, ice blue eyes focused on DiNozzo. The Lead Agent stopped for a moment and the echo of the girl filled his mind as he reported with the most matter of fact tone possible, "Kingsley and Tromst were leading a human trafficking ring, Boss. It wasn't just simple prostitution. They were collecting girls from all over and bringing them here. Their house is a distribution center."

"Suppliers?" Gibbs's voice sounded cold, unfeeling…wrong.

"Freelancers from all over, most of them from Canada, some from the U.S. They dropped the girls at a pre-arranged meeting point and Kingsley brought them back to the house at night. Tromst kept the van hidden in a warehouse outside town."

"This was way more than counterfeiting." Ziva remarked.

"Side business to keep 'em going during a lull." Gibbs remarked half-heartedly, looking at the two faces that decorated the flat-screen. "BOLO?"

"Haven't heard anything back yet." McGee Reported.

"She know where they are?" Silence followed, but his anger intensified.

Finally DiNozzo spoke up. "She's hesitant to say much."

"Probably afraid of her two captors." Ducky added cautiously.

The older man had not taken his eyes off of Gibbs since the team had stepped off the elevator. Dr. Mallard was well-trained, and knew the level of psychological stress this was having on his friend. This man was in no condition to lead an investigation.

"Terrified." DiNozzo added softly, and could not meet his boss's gaze.

Gibbs turned on his heel. "See if she knows where-and if she'll tell you." He ordered over his shoulder as he walked away.

The team stood for a while, staring at DiNozzo, who was staring at Ducky.

"Yes," Said Ducky, as if answering an unspoken question. "You must exercise caution."

"Should we involve the director?" McGee suggested carefully.

In response, Ziva's head shot up in the direction of Vance's office door, where the man himself stood watching. After a heavy silence, DiNozzo turned to the interrogation room, and another heart-rending conversation with the traumatized daughter of his tortured boss. To McGee and Ziva's surprise he returned a moment later, eyes panick-stricken as he announced.

"She's gone!"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Trust

"Bolo?" Gibbs asked for the second time. He had barely spoken a word since DiNozzo had timidly informed him that his long-lost, believed-to-be-dead daughter was missing. For a moment the younger man struggled between the knowledge that Ziva wouldn't let Gibbs kill him and the realization that even a well-trained assassin was no match for Gibbs's fury, especially when tempered by pain. DiNozzo had lost a mother, a girlfriend- the love of his life- he had been beaten and tortured and terrified out of his mind, but never had he faced the hell this his silver-haired boss had. It was a wonder Gibbs didn't cease to function.

Perhaps he wasn't functioning. He hadn't even tried to head-slap DiNozzo for his bungle, not that it was the field agent's fault, he had followed protocol to the letter. How in the world did the girl get out? The cameras in the hallway showed her frightened face as she crept down the hall outside interrogation, peaking around corners as she went. Traffic cams had picked her up headed west, running until she was a few blocks from the building before she disappeared. His daughter. Off grid. It was truly devastating.

The team froze in the middle of frantic phone calls and watched their leader rise from his desk, shrug into his coat and leave. They didn't question him. Each of them knew he was following his gut.

When she heard the car pull into the driveway a shudder ran down her back. His footsteps on the stairs were slow, as if he knew she was in there – or didn't care at all. But the door opened then and there he stood, looking just a bit more gray and weathered and rough than the very last time she'd called him Daddy. He studied her quietly, huddled on the floor beside a bed she had not slept on in years. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, hand wrapped around the one which bore a new whole with a fresh scrape surrounded by a young bruise.

"You used to hit the edge of the top step." He murmured, nodding in the direction of the front porch. "Every time." He watched her closely as he approached and pressed his back to the wall opposite her, sinking down to the floor so that he would no longer tower over her. Her fear filled the heavy silence as he took in every detail; the day-old bruises on her face, the week- and month-old bruises below them, the year-old scar on her chin. She jumped when he spoke again, despite his low tone. "Never cried. Just got mad. Last time it happened you swore at me."

"You made me scrub the steps." She added in a small, uncertain voice, but his face broke into a smile she thought she'd never see again.

The moment was broken by the sound of his phone. He silently cursed the electric parasite and flipped it open.

"No, call it off, she's safe." He reported to DiNozzo, and the uncertainty in his daughter's eyes made his chest ache. He listened for a moment before saying, "we'll be there soon." And hung up.

"Why did you leave?" He asked her simply. She stared for a moment before replying with a question of her own.

"They found Tromst?" He asked her calmly how she came to that conclusion. "Only thing that would bring you back so soon, and it has to be Tromst because Kingsley's too smart, if you catch him it'll be later, after he screws up in desperation or fatigue." He ignored the surprising logic of her conclusion by repeating his earlier question.

"Why did you leave?"

"To see if they were watching. If they took me back I could breadcrumb and lead you right to them. You're a first-class investigator; you wouldn't let your star witness go without a fight. You would track me to the ends of the earth for the sake of the case."

"I would track you to the ends of the earth because you're my daughter." He declared with sudden vehemence, and the flood of emotion almost brought him to tears again. She stared at him in surprise, which turned into apprehension as she watched him climb stiffly to his feet and reach out a hand. She looked at it for a moment until he whispered a reassuring, "won't hurt'cha." After he pulled her to her feet he kept his hand on hers and reached out slowly with the other. Her eyes widened in surprise when his fingertips gently touched her face with an intense, almost reverent air. Ice blue eyes, her eyes only older, studied her in disbelief. "I can't believe it's you." He whispered gently. "My daughter…my daughter died." She stared uneasily back at him for a moment before tentatively reaching up to touch the warm hand that cupped her chin. He was like a bind man, trying to make sure he was speaking to the right person.

"They stopped the car." She said, eyes flashing with the horror of the memory. They stopped the car and pulled us out."

"There were…bodies…in the car." He answered doubtfully, still tracing over a face his fingertips remembered better than his eyes.

"Hers." Kelly's voice choked on the words, but she forced them out anyway. "Her…body and the driver's, but not me. Kingsley kept me."

"Why?" He was back to the investigator now; his voice had changed and he had dropped his hands. She stepped back at the sudden change, confused. "Why did he keep you?" She looked away from him as she whispered that she didn't know. "You're lying." He realized, and turned away from her with a sigh. "Let's go."

"Where?" She asked fearfully.

"Back, I need to see this guy. You help us put him away and you'll never have to worry about him again."

"Kingsley's still out there." She reminded him, and he came back to take her hand, gently guiding her out of the room and to the stairs. When they reached the bottom he turned and looked her in the eye, saying firmly "I know he's the man who imprisoned you and hurt you, but I am the man that changed your diapers, and rocked you to sleep, right here." His hand patted the space between his heart and shoulder. "I gave you your name and taught you to think and I trump _him_ any day of the week."

Her lower lip trembled and for a moment she looked as if she were about to throw herself into his arms, but instead she squared her shoulders, nodded and went to the car.

"How'd you get here, anyway?" He asked, turning up the heater in the car – she was only wearing her torn, singed hoodie. "

"I took the bus part of the way."

"You remembered where it was?"

"Sort of. My feet knew the way better." Her teeth were chattering. He turned in the direction of the mall. "Where are we going?" She asked in sudden panic.

"You need to trust me." He said firmly.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Number 42

It took Gibbs from the check-out line to the car to convince her to wear the new coat and hoodie he had bought her. Finally she sat in the front seat of the car and allowed him to help her pull the old hoodie off, revealing a blood-stained t-shirt underneath. But it was her arm that caught his attention.

"What's that?" He asked, more calmly than he felt.

"Just a bruise, Kingsley stepped on it."

He knew, he'd watched it happen, but he gently wrapped his hands around her arm and flipped on the map light to study a small black number tattooed on the inside of her wrist: 42.

"Please don't hate me." She whispered, taking him completely off guard. He covered the mark with a warm hand as if he could heal like Jesus, and looked up at the wounded, confused gaze. "He used to mark all of us. Every girl who came through. He stopped at fifty, because he realized it might get him caught."

"There are forty-nine others out there?" He realized, and brushed careful fingers over the bruised label before shaking out the new hoodie.

"Not anymore, most don't make it." He pulled his anger and disgust into himself as he reached through the sleeves to take hold of her hands. Her body remembered what he was doing before her mind did, and she found herself dipping her head into the clean softness. As he settled it around her waist he felt her tremble.

"I won't hurt you." He reminded her, and then forced himself to add, "Kelly."

"DiNozzo, McGee, I want pictures of-"

"Where's Trom?" Kelly interrupted Gibbs when she saw the looks on the team's faces. Gibbs felt her hand grasp the back of his coat. It almost broke him down.

"He's still in custody." Ziva answered quickly. Out of all of them, she felt she understood the girl best; a young, frightened woman trapped in the world of cruel, heartless men who had no idea how tough she could be if they made her.

"But we have news about Kingsley." McGee added uncertainly.

"Kelly." Gibbs said, and reached behind himself to find her hand. The team watched him take his daughter by the shoulders and bend down a few inches to meet her eyes. "Do you promise me you'll stay where I put you- you'll let me keep you safe?" She studied him for a moment before nodding.

"Yes, sir." The smile he cracked at the words brought one to her own bruised face. He rose, but kept his hand on her shoulder as he nodded at McGee to continue.

"He was seen driving a gray 13-passenger van on I90 twenty minutes ago. Highway Patrol pulled him over but when he realized he'd been made he pulled off again. There were approximately ten girls in the back of the van."

"He's going to the drop site." Kelly explained, looking uncertainly at each agent, whose rapt attention unnerved her. Gibbs squeezed her shoulder gently.

"Where is the drop site?" DiNozzo asked. She hesitated a moment before asking what would happen to the girls. "We'll get them to safety."

"Most of them will be runaways. There is no safe place for them."

"Will they be any better off with him?" Her father challenged. "Or with the men who will buy them?"

"Not that any of those guys are real men." McGee murmured in disgust. Murderers they dealt with all the time, but child trafficking was intolerable, and as furious as it made Ziva, the three men could barely contain their hatred for the practice, or those involved. In fact, DiNozzo had nearly broken Tromski's neck when he put him in lock-up.

"I'll have to show you." Kelly announced.

"Out of the question." Gibbs responded quickly.

"But I can't-"

"Draw us a map. You aren't leaving this building."

"I can't!"

The tension was broken by the stairway door opening, and all of a sudden Abby was there, heavy black books shaking the bullpen as she ran into the area.

"Gibbs! It _is_ her!" She rushed in with arms outstretched as Gibbs made quick introductions before his daughter jumped to his shoulders in panic. But as Abby took the girl's face in her hands, Kelly only pressed her shoulder slightly into Gibb's side. "You have his eyes." Abby said reverently. "Oh I can't believe it! She's you! She's you in a little…baby blue hoodie!"

"We were just going to catch some criminals." DiNozzo pointed out. "And stop it, she's not a puppy."

"Yeah, but can I keep her? Can she come to my lab and-"

"After she draws us a map." Gibbs reminded the girl.

"That's the problem." Kelly said in frustration, stepping back to look up at him. "A map won't help you. There are three different locations and I have no way of knowing which one they'll use."

"When is the drop?" Ziva asked.

"At exactly midnight."

"Three hours." McGee announced.

"What happens at the drop?" DiNozzo asked.

"The girls are examined. If the contact thinks they'll pull in a high price he'll pay Kingsley and lock them up for the night, then the next day at midnight he'll get them ready for the auction."

"Have you ever seen it?" Her father asked. "The auction?"

"Only part of it. I picked the lock on the freezer and escaped. That's sort of why they kept me."

Gibbs turned away quickly, stomping off toward interrogation.

"It's okay." Abby told her with a smile. "He's just going to get more information."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Dad

Samuel Tromsky was a forty-seven year old electrician with an IQ of 80 and an affinity for liquor – not the best combination, actually. He had a full head of shaggy, gray-blond hair that was always greasy, and a beard that did not grow in evenly. He was a thin man, with long fingers yellowed by his tobacco habit, and an ironic beer gut that kept him from scooting all the way up to the small table in the interrogation room.

He yawned when the door opened, winced when it closed and studied Gibbs with languid eyes when the silver-haired agent sat down across from him. The agent's hands were empty. Tromsky had expected a file, like the one cops usually slapped down in front of him the few times a year he was brought in for a drunk and disorderly charge. But this man carried no file, only a look so cold and void of emotion that Tromsky was obliged to gather the force of all 80 IQ points together as he sat up, intending on playing his cards just right.

"Did you get him?" The half-drunken man asked desperately. "He's crazy, out of control."

The agent wasn't buying it. He folded his hands in front of him and stared at the career-criminal, appearing apathetic and nonchalant, thought deep inside he was hoping he didn't kill the greasy drunk.

_Protocol, Gibbs, Protocol._ He reminded himself.

"Tell me about the drop." He said, more calmly than he felt. Tromski smiled, a child happy to please his parent. Did the man have a clue how much trouble he was in?

"We drop off the shipment at a pre… a pre… at a place we agree on." He sounded as if he were reciting a phrase he'd heard a billion times.

"Shipment? You mean little girls?" _Stay calm, she needs you calm. _

The childish grin faded from the imbecil's face.

"Who decides on the location?" Gibbs pressed.

"You…you can't ask me without-"

"Who decides?" Gibbs demanded, hitting the table with the palm of his hand. He smelled the word 'lawyer' on this man's breath almost as strong as the stale alcohol.

"You don't know anything." The man said proudly. His cocky grin faded when Gibbs asked him if he remembered the furnace repair man who came to the house. Over the sound of the man's stuttering surprise Gibbs described DiNozzo.

"The young man from the furnace company, tall, dark hair, installed a camera in your basement."

The man froze, then the smile was back. "You're playing tricks on me."

"Pretty clear shot of you in that basement, right before Kingsley beat that girl."

Again the smile faded. Now he realized he was in real trouble. He didn't realize enough, though, and Gibbs raised up in his chair to tower over the nervous man. "Do you know who that girl was? She died in that fire – the fire you set."

"She's dead? I didn't-"

Gibbs slammed his hand on the table as he announced, "That girl was my daughter!"

The reaction was instantaneous and bittersweet – in a blink Tromsky melted. His shoulders fell, head dropped to the table as the blood drained from his face and sobs shook him. They were the cries of a desperate, drunken old man, and would have been much more satisfying to Gibbs if the agent hadn't done the same earlier that day.

Gibbs eased himself back into his chair and waited for the man to quiet, and then in a low, firm voice he ordered, "tell me about the drop."

The sounds that floated out of Abby's lab were sweet to his ears when he arrived there later. Laughter, voices, whispers and a stray giggle brought his mind out of the room with the sobbing drunk and into the warmth of _her_ smile. Yet the moment Gibbs walked in- past the guard parked in the corner of the room – he froze. Kelly was grinning from ear to ear, looking at a scrapbook with Abby, who was regaling her with some story or another of some prank one of his agents had pulled. His daughter's hair was pulled back, bruised side of her face turned away, eyes lit with amusement. She had never before looked more like her mother. A small explosion of pain went off in his chest as his mind flashed to Shannon. He could almost feel her cool hand on the back of his neck, pulling his head down to her shoulder as her arms encircled him. Forever he had searched for arms that satisfied like hers, but the wounded, love-struck boy in his heart refused to be comforted once his soul mate was gone. No one else would do.

The girls were looking at him. He grinned sadly and entered, taking note of the search in progress on the monitor – pictures of tattoos flashed through. The machine was searching for the other girls Kingsley had marked. Six possible matches had been found so far, all of them lined up beside a photo of Kelly's tattooed wrist. Abby had photo-shopped the bruised discoloration away, leaving a young arm scarred by ink instead of broken blood vessels.

"Did you talk to Trom?" Kelly's worried voice pulled his attention from the monitor.

"Yeah, he thinks you're dead." She hadn't seemed tense to him, yet somehow the young shoulders sagged with relief.

"Did he tell you which drop site they're using?"

"Yup, even gave me directions."

"It's a trap."

"How do you know?" Abby asked.

"Because that's what King told him to do if he was caught. There's another road – to each site- a main and a back-road that leads to each. Which site?"

Gibbs hesitated a moment before saying, "North of the bridge."

"Then he told you to take Bridge Road. That'll be monitored. If they see anything but the van they'll sound the alarm. All the customers will scatter, you won't even get King."

"Draw me a map." He said for the fifth time.

"You don't understand, the backroad has twists and turns, forks – I have to-"

"You aren't leaving this building until this is over."

"That's not fair!"

"Young Lady, I am not going to let you-"

"Dad, you're not listening to me!" A stunned silence fell over the man. Abby crept out of the room silently, leaving them to their moment.

"You called me Dad." He stated simply.

"Kinda' slipped out." Came her apologetic reply.

"Why'd it take you so long to say it?"

"Why didn't you want to see me? Those first hours? They pulled me out of the fire at seven in the morning and you didn't see me until after I ran away five hours later."

He stared at her for a minute before pulling up a stool. She watched him sit, resting his hands on his knees and sighing with resignation.

"I didn't know what to believe." He admitted without looking at her. "To know you're alive after all this time – it was a shock. And I didn't want that to get in the way of the investigation – of keeping you safe and getting the men who hurt you."

He looked up to see her reaction, but she was staring at the floor and chewing her lip.

"Ask me." He encouraged gently.

She took a deep breath, gathering her strength. "Are you sorry you found me again?"

His reaction was lightning–fast. One minute she was drowning in self-doubt and then in a breath she was surrounded by her father's arms, pulled against his chest, his hand coaxing her head to the safety of his shoulder. Kelly awkwardly allowed herself to be held, unable to recall what the meaning behind this was. What was she supposed to do? But then she smelled it; the aroma of home, familiar detergent and soap, coffee, wood, the musky male scent of his shirt – like the shirt she used to sleep with when he was out on tour and she missed him, only now he was here and alive, strong arms keeping her safe, holding her together.

Gibbs felt his daughter relax at last, as if she had finally remembered what this was. As he pulled her closer he whispered, "That's my girl."

She drew in a shaky breath. "I'm scared, Dad."

His heart quailed at the name as he promised, "I'll keep you safe, Kelly."

She pulled back, hands still gripping his arms. "We have to get him. I have to help you find it, please." She pleaded. He thought long and hard, and against his gut, he nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Busted

"Ziva, you are Kelly's personal guard, she is your only job."

"I will not leave her side." The assassin affirmed, gluing herself to the girl's hip.

"McGee, DiNozzo, you two in the SUV behind us, you're on recon. Once we get to the site, Ziva will drive Kelly _immediately_ back here."

"But Dad-"

"No buts, young lady, you will stay with Ziva and follow her every command, no matter what, is that clear?"

She sighed in exasperation. "Yes, sir. Do I get a gun?"

"No." All four agents responded. She cringed and sat back with a huff what turned into a thick cough.

"Turn left up here." She whispered from the backseat an hour later. Gibbs saw her in the rearview mirror moving to perch between his seat and Ziva's. The road was black as pitch, and he didn't see a turn, so he slowed down and waited for the whispered, "here." A moment later the trees gave way to a narrow road, little more than a path through the think woods.

"It'll curve to the left." She said, eyes closed, tracing the path in the air with her fingers. "when it forks, go to your right and keep straight."

About fourteen hazy directions later the road suddenly widened and he felt himself relax a bit after checking for the fifteenth time to make sure the boys were still behind them in the other car. After parking between the trees they climbed out silently and followed Kelly's stealthy steps to the edge of a clearing, where she dropped to her knees. There, ten yards away, was a building, and parked beside it; the gray van.

"They're taking the girls in – right on time." Kelly whispered. Her father knelt beside her, his hand laid protectively on her shoulder.

McGee and DiNozzo snapped pictures from afar and then moved to circle the compound as Gibbs turned to Kelly and Ziva. "It's time to go."

Once the two had left, he turned back to the compound. DiNozzo and McGee had captured the contact and his two assistants by the time the lead agent got there.

"Where are the girls?" DiNozzo was demanding, shaking the weakest man violently.

"The freezer." Gibbs reminded him, and watched the younger man holster his gun and move toward the silver door on the other side of the dark room. DiNozzo yanked it open angrily but softened the moment his eyes fell upon the figures inside.

They were huddled together, clinging to one another like life rafts. He froze as he took in the sight – they were so young!

"It's alright, no one is going to hurt you." He announced softly, pointing to the badge clipped to his belt. "We're federal agents. You're safe now, you can come out." They started to rise cautiously but didn't move toward the door until one of them saw the contact and his two men hand-cuffed in a neat line, McGee and Gibbs standing over them sternly. Gibbs opened his badge and McGee followed suit as the ten girls came out of the freezer, some angry and hard, some terrified, all of them young. Gibbs felt his stomach wrench at the sight of them. They would never be the same again.

The momentum of arrests, children services and parents filled the next hour. Finally Gibbs pulled himself away from it to call Ziva. There was no answer. After ordering McGee to track her phone and almost clocking the poor young agent when he reported that it was still at the drop site, he raced to his car, DiNozzo at his heels, leaving McGee to fetch the director to finish dealing with the girls.

The car was on it's side along the back road. There was blood on the driver-side window. Gibb's mind reeled with possibilities, but one look at the open and unmarred passenger door sent him racing. He nearly tripped over the person lying in a heap in front of the car. "Ziva." His fingers shook slightly as they felt for a pulse. It was there; soft, thready, but there. He heard DiNozzo behind him, calling for an ambulance. Gibbs looked around the woods for any clue as to where Kelly was, though in his heart he knew who took his daughter.

Kingsley.

Kelly woke to the sound of a motor. The upolstry and shape of the seats confirmed before she opened her eyes that she was in the backseat of a car. She reached to touch her aching head but found that her hands were tied together by tight, rough rope. Glancing bleary-eyed toward the front seat she saw a familiar hand reach to adjust the radio.

Kingsley.

Something inside Kelly tightened and coiled into a sickening knot. Anger boiled as the fear rose. Thoughts of her father's agent, sent to protect her, left injured on the backroad, fueled the hot fire as she rose and grasped the head rest of the driver's seat to steady herself. Kingsley had barely caught the sight of her out of the corner of his eye when her fists, joined together by his own rope, came down together on the side of his head, knocking it into the car window as the vehicle careened onto the sidewalk in shock. Then came a sickening thud as the car slammed against the side of a brick building, knocking Kelly against the window. As soon as she recovered her balance, the girl launched herself into action, not stopping to check that Kingsley was unconscious, alive or dead. She simply slammed open the back door, launched herself out of the car, dodged the shocked gazes of passersby and took off into the night.

_

"Boss, we have a report of a 2002 Silver Contour that crashed downtown half an hour ago. License plate confirms it's Kingsley's." McGee shouted excitedly into his cell phone. Gibbs was checking the second drop site while DiNozzo, having seen to Ziva at the hospital, was investigating the third, hoping Kingsley had taken her there. "Police have him in custody and witnesses say a girl jumped out of the backseat right after it crashed."

"Where?" McGee gave him the location, grimaced when Gibbs ordered him to stay put and search for updates, and then sat down to call the hospital for another update on Ziva.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Grandpa

"It's like she started running and just couldn't stop." DiNozzo reported to Ziva. She leaned back in the hospital bed and picked at her breakfast. Her head hurt, she ached all over and she was anxious to get out of there and find the girl. _Their_ girl. While Americans did not seem to have the same sense of family that some in her home country did, Ziva had learned that for Gibbs and his team, the connection was real. Once Ziva, Tony, McGee, Gibbs, and even Abby, Ducky and Palmer had experienced enough life-and-death situations together, the bond between then was as strong as blood. This girl was Gibb's daughter, which meant any member of his team would readily die for her. _Unless,_ Ziva thought bitterly, _one was unconscious on the side of the road._

"Have you found nothing?" She asked Tony.

"A scrap of rope with blood on it was found several blocks from the place where Kingsley wrecked his car."

"And where is _he?_" She growled.

"He's…in custody." Tony hedged, and then pulled the lid off of her apple juice. "You gonna drink this? Boy, it sure looks good." He awkwardly avoided the glare she sent him as he sipped her juice and then swallowed and grinned boyishly. "Okay, you want your juice back?"

"DiNozzo!"

"He's in the hospital, alright?"

"_This_ hospital?" She realized. Tony pointed out with every ounce of charm he had that Kingsley was not only in poor condition but under armed guard. Ziva's wheels were still turning.

"Come on, you can't- you know what? I'm gonna go talk to the doctor now. I'm gonna talk to the doctor and see when he thinks you…maybe…when you can…you know…not be here with _him_ anymore. I'll go do that." He swaggered his way out of the hospital room and into the hallway, hoping he could convince Ziva's doctor that for the safety of the rest of the hospital, she should probably be released a little early.

_

"Where's my granddaughter?" Jackson Gibbs demanded upon seeing Abby. She quickly stepped in front of the green "match" sign flashing on the monitor where the blood on the rope had just been identified. "She's not here right now." He paused, breathing heavily from the brisk walk he had taken through the building. Gripping his cane in one hand the elder Gibbs then demanded to know where "Jethro" was. Abby blanched. "Gibbs is…out looking for Kelly."

"She's missing? Young lady, you'd better tell me everything."

The streets were fairly empty at ten in the morning. She had spent the past three or four hours curled up in a basement window, and her entire body hurt. She felt as if Kingsley had just given her a good beating – except for the fact that her spine felt like a piece of rotini. She was hungry. Her father had plied her with Chinese food and pizza over twelve hours ago and there was no hope of anything else anytime soon - unless she stole something. _Not a problem I need. _She concluded with a shake of her head.

Lying in the window off an alley, hiding from the hustle of the morning rush hour had forced her stop dashing about for a minute and think. Something deep inside told her to run, run, run. No one could protect her, nowhere was safe. Her father blew hot and cold, angry and distant one minute and loving the next. Was he glad she was alive? Or was he just doing his duty? Her thoughts flashed back to Abby's lab, less than a day ago, and the look on his face when she called him 'Dad.' She fingered the sleeve of her hoodie, still soft and warm, and remembered his assurances as he helped her into it like he had when she was a child.

It brought back a flood of old memories – things she had tried to forget, things that had been too painful to remember in the gloom of Kingsley's basement. Her mind tugged back a curtain of pain and there he was, a younger, less haggard Leroy Jethro Gibbs, giggling like a school girl as his six year old daughter clumsily imitated him in his military cap. Images of her parents sneaking a kiss in the front seat of the car, echoes of her mother's laughter when her father would start a tickle fight with his two best girls, faint remnants of the time she danced with her father – standing on his feet…all of it came in a wave. Her entire childhood parted before her troubled mind, each memory leading to another sweet moment, and some not so sweet – but they were all hers. How could she consolidate the man she remembered from this man who didn't even want her anymore? Or did he?

The doubts were still there, but as Kelly uncurled herself from her hiding place she stood stiffly and felt as if she had regained a part of her life she'd thought gone. Somewhere in that man was the father she remembered. Kelly took a deep breath, and stopped running.

Jackson Gibbs sat on his son's couch and leaned on his cane, watching his son pace the room. The elder Gibbs was in his seventies, and had seen and known a thousand fathers in his time, including himself, but he had never seen the level of dedication Leroy Jethro Gibbs had for Kelly. He himself would die for his boy, even now that he was a man, but Jethro would tear the flesh off his own body with a pair of tongs for her, and gladly.

"Son-"

"No, no Dad." He waved away his father's comfort.

"I was just-"

"I don't want to hear it." Jethro repeated firmly as he pulled his ringing phone out of his pocket. DiNozzo's voice called out something, and Jethro was off like a shot, ignoring his father who was struggling to rise from the couch. "Stay here in case…" His voice faded as he rushed to the car, leaving the old man in silence.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Pieces

Kelly crept cautiously through the alley, watching everywhere for signs of Kingsley or anyone else that might be working for him. She jumped at the slightest sound; the motor of a car, a dog barking, the scrape of her own shoe on the pavement. Finally she reached the house and vaulted through the back door like her life depended on it. She screamed and fell back the second the door closed behind her and the kitchen filled with the form of a stranger.

"It's okay, Kelly." He said quickly, holding out his hand like a plea. She was smaller than he'd expected, thinner, shorter. She looked more ten than fourteen, huddled against the back door, shaking with cold and fear. "You don't remember me? I'm your grandpa!"

The wary eyes narrowed suspiciously, and then she stood up straighter, moved forward a step. "Where's my Dad?"

"He got a call a few minutes ago, he's probably out looking for you."

"What about Kingsley?"

"Jethro said they got him under guard at the hospital, said he got banged up pretty good in that fender bender you caused." This he ended with a chuckle as he walked the rest of the way into the kitchen. She moved to the other side of the table, opposite him, while he reached for the phone on the wall and dialed a number. A moment later he spoke into the receiver, "Jethro? I have someone here wants to talk to you." He held out the phone, heart aching at the way she took it from him quickly and moved away.

"Dad?"

"Kelly Shannon Gibbs, where have you been? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?"

"No, sir."

"You stay put, right there, young lady. Do not move from that house, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Promise me, Kelly."

"I promise, I won't leave." She turned away from the old man and asked in a whisper. "Dad, who's this guy here?"

His tone lightened, sounding almost amused as he explained, "That's your grandpa, he's a good guy, you stay with him, you hear me?"

"I will." After he hung up she handed the phone back to her grandfather. "He's mad."

The old man fixed her with a smile. "He's worried about you. You don't remember him from before?"

"A little. Bits and pieces." She watched him closely as he went through the cupboards and finally found some hot cocoa mix.

"He gets fierce when someone he loves is in danger. Just how he is." She watched him mix the hot cocoa and set it in front of her on the table.

"Think he's just mad, that's all. He wasn't too excited to have me back."

The man sat across from her at the table and laid a wrinkled hand beside hers. "My son always loved his daughter, never stopped. That's you, right?"

She was silent, looking at the older, heavier copy of her own hand. "It was."

"Still is." He insisted. "Time doesn't take away your name." Kelly looked away and took a careful sip of her cocoa.

Twenty minutes later Jethro Gibbs opened the front door to find his father waiting for him. "Where is she, Dad?"

"Bathroom. Must be the first shower she's had in a while. Abby sent over some clothes she bought for her."

"She okay?"

"She thinks her father doesn't want her. If you call that okay-"

"Dad-"

"No son, listen to me. I know you love that girl and you're having trouble accepting that she's back, but you have to think about her, Jethro, not you."

"I've _been_ thinking about her!" He said, stomping up the stairs. He stood outside the bathroom for a moment, listening to the sounds of water and washing. After he'd determined all was well he went back to plop down beside his father. His phone was ringing. It was Abby. He answered it just long enough to assure her that Kelly was, indeed, home and safe, and then had the same conversation with DiNozzo and McGee before shutting the phone off altogether. His father wisely allowed the silence for a few moments before slowly reaching out his hand to touch his son's shoulder.

"I know you care about her, son. I know you're still hurtin' over Shannon."

"She doesn't look a thing like her, Dad."

"No, she looks like _you_ son."

"It doesn't feel the same. It doesn't feel the way it did before."

"She's different than how she was before, son. She's been tainted, hurt, scared."

"Tainted?" Jethro repeated in a raw whisper. "You think that's how she feels?" His father didn't answer, only waited, a trick the younger Gibbs came by honestly. "You think she feels like she's had too many ugly things happen to her that she can't…that I can't love her? She's my daughter!" The bathroom door opened, and the two men sat, poised on the edge of their seats as Kelly came down the stairs. If he had been feeling any less anguish, Jethro would have smiled at Abby's choice of clothing for the girl – black and white camouflage shirt, white hooded jacket with pink skulls on it and dark jeans. Kelly looked like a different person, tired, worn, but still different. As she folded her arms over her chest she was almost the shadow of a normal teenage girl. Jethro stared at her for a moment, and then jumped to his feet, arms outstretched. She took half a step back but he quickly pulled her into his arms and waited for her to relax. Finally her hands came up to clutch his shoulder.

"I love you." Jethro said firmly, pulling back to look her in the eye. She looked surprised, so he said it again, and again. "I love you, Kelly." He pulled her back into his arms again, and this time she buried her face in his shoulder and clung to her father as if she would never let go. "You sure did scare me, baby girl. I thought I would never see you again- again." The last word came out of him with a shudder, but she was still reeling from his term of endearment. She had thought she would never be called 'baby girl' again. She choked back a sob and hugged him harder, feeling completely safe for the first time in years.

Just as Jackon Gibbs was fighting tears a few feet away the front door burst open and Abby, Ziva and DiNozzo piled into the room, closely followed by Ducky and McGee. Abby immediately pushed Jethro Gibbs out of the way and bear-hugged Kelly. Gibbs glanced over as Ziva, who looked sore but sound, and couldn't help but notice DiNozzo, who was practically glued to her side. McGee caught Gibb's eye and the two men stepped away from Abby, who was gushing over how cute Kelly looked in her skull jacket. McGee reported in a low voice. "Kingsley was caught trying to escape about fifteen minutes ago. The guard warned him but had no choice. He shot him."

"Kingsley?" Kelly repeated from the other side of the room, and the adults around her immediately closed in protectively on their girl. "Shot? Is he…?" McGee looked to her father, who nodded, but did not take his eyes off his daughter.

"He's dead." McGee reported.


	10. Chapter 10

Complete

Leroy Jethro Gibbs stepped out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to put the hood up on Kelly's jacket. She glared at him half-heartedly and gave his scarf a light tug as she shut the car door. Gibbs watched his daughter as she put her bare hands in the pockets of her jacket. He couldn't help but shake his head ruefully at her. Abby had turned the poor child into some sort of walking doll – complete with black boots and a black jacket with cat ears on the hood.

In the two months since their reunion, the two of them had struggled to find a way of life suitable for a protective father and his fourteen-year-old daughter who had seen enough to make her forty. He repeatedly found himself hurt over the innocence that had been taken from her. Every nightmare that filled the house with screams sent him dashing in his boxers with a gun into her room two or three times a week – which was an improvement. She was seeing a therapist regularly, and had gone back to school only one grade lower than she would have been in. It was all coming together, and together, Gibbs knew, the two of them would heal. There was only one piece missing.

"She's buried here?" Kelly asked, pulling her hand out of her pocket to slip into her father's. Gibb's squeezed her cold hand with his own warm one and nodded.

"Buried her in the family plot, right over there. Your Grandma's buried there, and your Grandpa's parents, couple of uncles."

"Like Uncle Fester?" She teased as he led her through the graveyard.

"You've been watching too much late night TV."

"What else am I supposed to do?"

"Your homework?" He countered. Her shoulders sank in defeat as they approached the graves.

"Beloved mother, wife and friend." Kelly read from the headstone of her mother. "Friend?"

"She was my best friend." Gibbs clarified, and sank down slowly on the bench nearby.

"Dad, have you come here before?" The look on his face answered that. "Why not?" He didn't answer, though his eyes darted to a freshly dug place beside his wife's grave. "Who's grave is that?" Kelly asked. He didn't answer that, either. Kelly scanned the plot, looked around, looked at her father, and grew pale. "It's _mine_, isn't it?" She sank to her knees on the ground in front of him and grasped his hands.

"We buried an empty casket. There was a headstone, too. I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead and it…." He trailed off, unable to finish. He felt like a tired old man, babbling on about his troubles to a child, only it was _his_ child, here and alive, not in the ground rotting. He took a deep breath and gently disentangled his hands from hers only to reach up and cradle her face with great care. "Kelly, I need you to know that I would have torn this world apart if I had even the slightest inkling you were still alive. I need you to know that. You're my daughter."

"Dad, it's different." She pulled away, unable to face the love she felt she didn't deserve. He looked at her like she'd hung the moon. He thought she was some sort of hero or saint. He couldn't have been more wrong. "I'm different. You know it's not the same." She nodded in the direction of her mother's grave. "Part of me is glad she's dead. Just because I wouldn't have wanted her to see me like this."

"Like what?"

"Like…like this! You _know_ what I mean!" She turned away from him and folded her arms over her chest, growling in frustration.

Gibbs fought the urge to shake his daughter. He'd spent two months pouring everything into her, sometimes even to the detriment of his team. DiNozzo, McGee and Ziva had done without him more than once in his quest to protect and restore his broken little girl. Many times he had wakened her from her nightmares to hold her while she cried out all the pain they had put into her. Many times he had called her from work just to remind her that he loved her and was glad she was there. And still it wasn't enough.

Restraining himself, Gibbs rose and took hold of her arms, pulling her with firm but gentle hands so that she was forced to face him. "Kelly Shannon Gibbs." He said firmly, and then began to guide her softly down to sit beside him at the base of her mother's grave. He released one arm to rest his hand on the soil that covered his wife's body, and shuddered with grief. "Your mother was the love of my life, there cannot be anyone else who I will ever love the way I loved her, she was a part of me. But you- _you_ – my little girl, _you_ are _from_ me. You are half me and half the love of my life." He dug his fingertips into the soil, as if he could grasp what was left of Shannon's essence. "There is nothing that could ever happen, nothing you could ever do, or see, or hear, that could change that. Don't you let what those men did change who you are."

"But it _has_ changed who I am!"

"Not to me! Not to me! I'm your father! You're my daughter! You didn't ask for this, you didn't do anything wrong!"

"You don't know all the-"

"Kelly, you didn't do anything wrong." She froze, her eyes growing wide, staring desperate. He repeated it again. "You didn't do anything wrong." And again. Her face twisted in agony and she threw herself against his chest, sobbing deep, heavy, broken sobs. "You thought you were responsible for what they were doing, for helping them, for not stopping them." He realized. She nodded against his shoulder. "You weren't, Kelly. You didn't do anything wrong."

She basked in the words as he repeated them once again. They were like salve on a raw wound, smoothing over the ache left by years of guilt. She _had_ believed she was responsible- at fault somehow for going along with their plans so many times, for not fighting harder. She thought of how deeply ashamed her Marine father would be of her if he only knew. She never thought he would be the one to release her from her own self-imposed condemnation, but he had. Kelly finished crying out her tears, and as they slowly faded away she felt a peace she had not known before. For the first time, she believed her father when he whispered, "it's going to be okay."

And it was.


End file.
